


Better in Red

by orphan_account



Category: Firefly
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-09
Updated: 2009-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the request: "fist, collar, leash, slave".</p>
    </blockquote>





	Better in Red

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the request: "fist, collar, leash, slave".

Mal only allows these games off-ship. It wouldn’t do for the others to hear them, and they **would** hear. Besides, keeping them so completely separate from the more mundane part of their lives gives the memories a distant, dream-like quality that would leave Jayne questioning whether he’d fantasized the whole thing, if it weren’t for the soreness he feels for days afterward.

 

Mal is strict about the a sharp division he keeps between the two. He doesn’t allow Jayne to call him ‘sir’ aboard Serenity, for example, or to perform fellatio on his knees. A ‘yessir’ that slips out when Mal asks him to undress earns him a hard backhand; a few disallowed phrases murmured against the pillow while Mal’s fucking him get him sent back to his bunk.

 

There’s only one way the two parts of their lives are allowed to bleed into one another: sometimes, aboard ship, when he’s still healing, Mal will come up behind him when they're with the others, running a few fingers over the wounds on his back, slow but firm, and Jayne will be forced to clench his jaw, ball his hands into fists, and keep from crying out as if everything was normal.

 

But after a few days back aboard ship, he heals and even that’s gone; all he can do is count the days until they’re planetside again. The only material reminder he has is the collar Mal gave him. He feels a bit guilty, pulling it snug around his neck when he’s alone, relishing the feel of the leather against skin, but the captain never told him he couldn’t. Mal’s promised him a leash, too, if he progresses well with his training, and the thought of being on a fours, led around by his captain makes his heart beat faster.

 

Jayne’s cock gets hard just from putting the collar on, just from knowing it’s there, sometimes. He takes himself in hand, closing his eyes, and thinks about being at Mal’s feet, about being bent over and vulnerable, about Mal taking his pleasure in him any way he likes. Usually he climaxes much sooner than he intended to. 

 

Lately, Jayne has even more reason to count the days ‘til planet fall. Mal gave him just the barest of hints: _I’ve gotta mind t’share you_, he’d said as he cleaned the wounds on Jayne’s back. It was a statement, not a request. Jayne knows he’s not being asked to respond, so he says nothing. He’s thought about it every day since then. Who is Mal going to share him with? Is it a friend of Mal’s, or is it some business associate that he’s being given to to curry favor? Are they going to play games similar to what he does with Mal, or will things be more straightforward?

 

He has more than two weeks to consider every possibility he can think of. Only a few of them fill him with trepidation. If Mal intends for this person to hurt him, what will that mean exactly? Mal knows just how much pain he can take, just how much makes him feel warm and alive and gives him the endorphin rush he craves. But even the trepidation makes the excitement curl up inside him. He trusts Mal completely and the thought of having new ways to please him fills him with anticipation.

 

* * * *

They always rent two rooms, and not just for appearances.If Jayne disobeys, even if he hesitates, he’ll be forced to watch, bereft, as Mal finishes himself off and then sends him away. In the back of his mind, Jayne knows it’s there for another reason too—to remind him that everything Mal takes, Jayne offered, that he’s a slave but not a slave.

 

Jayne is pleased when Mal orders him to disrobe and he sees Simon’s sharp intake of breath, his eyes raking over him lustfully.

 

“Want you t’tell Simon your word, an’ then you don’t speak ‘less spoken to, dong ma?”

 

“Yessir,” Jayne responds, eyes downcast.

 

Simon has him bend over the desk, his cheek flat to its surface.

 

“Your owner tells me I don’t need to tie you, that you’re disciplined enough to take what I give you without being restrained. Is that true?”

 

“Yessir,” he says, hoping to God he’s right, that Simon doesn’t have something in store for him that he can’t take. The thought of failing Mal in front of another person terrifies him.

 

It comes as no surprise, given Simon’s vocation, that if he seemed to approve of Jayne’s body when he disrobed, he seems to approve even more when the muscles of his back are outlined by a few thin rivulets of blood. It also comes as no surprise that when Mal hurts him, it’s broad and brutal, but when Simon hurts him, it’s slow and precise, and that the two in tandem each make the other shimmer all the more by comparison.

 

When Simon deems the work on his back sufficient, he moves down to the plug Jayne’s had in him for several hours. Jayne shivers with pleasure when Simon moves it between his fingers. He moans when Simon replaces the plug with a couple slick fingers, running them over the place inside him that makes him shudder and ache. He’s alright when Simon adds another finger and then another.

 

When Jayne feels Simon’s thumb against the others, he starts to sweat, breathing in short, shallow breaths and gripping the table entirely too hard. When the thumb goes into him, the pain is searing, the fullness frightening, and when he feels Simon’s fingers curl back into a fist, his safeword trembles on the edge of his lips precariously. He bites it back, willing himself to relax, telling himself that his body can accommodate this. He thinks about how good it feels to have Mal proud of him, to take what he’s given and be praised for his obedience afterwards.

 

The pain doesn’t let up though, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trembling as Simon moves inside him.

 

“Enough,” Mal says, and relief washes over him.

 

Simon orders him to his knees, holding his head in place as he pushes forcefully through his lips. Jayne tries to pleasure him, but Simon’s using him too hard for it to do much good, so he does his best, mostly staying passive and letting his mouth be fucked.

 

When Simon groans and comes in his throat he swallows obediently. His breath catches when he sees Mal out of the corner of his eye, looking on, stroking his thick erection leisurely. Simon releases his grip and steps away, using his thumb to wipe away a drop from where Jayne’s eyes were watering. 

 

Jayne watches as Simon and Mal finish undressing each other. They’re both beautiful, he thinks, and they’re even more beautiful together. They’re all kiss and touch now, Mal’s tanned hands running up and down Simon’s smooth pale skin.

 

“You like using my boy?” Mal asks between kisses and Simon breathes a _yes_ before Mal guides him to the bed. Mal presses his erection between Simon’s thighs and while some part of Jayne doesn’t like seeing his owner take pleasure in someone else’s body, he’s too turned on to care. His jealousy is quelled a bit when Mal tells him to clean off Simon’s skin where he’s come. He’s grateful for the taste of Mal in his mouth, and Simon has beautiful thighs. 

 

* * * *

 

Hours later, when Simon’s taken his leave and it’s just the two of them, Mal helps Jayne into the wide, deep bath. His muscles are a little too shaky to do it on his own. Mal takes soap and water to his skin, cleaning off blood and both Mal’s and Simon’s come.

 

“I’m proud of you,” Mal says, and Jayne’s heartbeat speeds up just a bit. “You suffer beautifully.”


End file.
